


In Utumno's Deeps

by Harp_of_Gold



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blood and Gore, D/s, Evil science boyfriends, Lord/vassal, M/M, Minor Character Death, Sadomasochism, Torture, Vivisection, angbang, dark devotion, so much blood and gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 11:04:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19018618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harp_of_Gold/pseuds/Harp_of_Gold
Summary: Melkor and Mairon explore biology and get very excited by each other.





	In Utumno's Deeps

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS SUPER GORY YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

A fine mist of blood hung in the air. Mairon tasted it with every breath; the rich metallic scent clogged his nose and throat like molten iron, intoxicating. The elf on the table moaned. Hours ago it had given up screaming; whether from despair or exhaustion, Mairon couldn't tell. Melkor stroked its face, the only part they’d left unmarked. They had dismantled it with exceeding care, peeling back skin and flesh to trace the paths of nerve and tendon, opening its torso and breaking its ribs to inspect the organs within. With each gasping breath, the glistening red sacs of its lungs expanded and fell. 

“Exquisite, is it not?” Melkor murmured, surveying their work. His arms were slicked to the elbows with blood, though he consorted but loosely with corporeal form. Parts of him swirled in and out of shadow. “It feels so much.” He took a slender knife and plunged it into the nerve cluster they’d identified in the point of the elf’s shoulder. He twisted it, and the elf found it could still scream. Darkness filled his midnight eyes, and Mairon shivered, longing for those eyes to look with such radiant hunger on him.

Melkor’s voice was velvet and pomegranate wine. “I want to know more about their pain. What hurts them most. How much they can withstand. How far we can go without killing them. Find it out for me.”

“Yes, my lord!” Mairon answered eagerly. “I’ll need many more elves—it’s no good testing over and over on the same one, they’ll need to be fresh…I’ll have to account for individual variance too, best to sort them into groups and look at the average…space to contain them…tools…not sure how long I can keep them alive, have to figure that out first…”

Melkor smiled on him with a strangely gentle expression. He grasped one of Mairon’s horns and, tugging him close, bestowed a kiss. Mairon squeaked and parted his lips, leaning in for more. It still felt like a dream he might wake from at any moment, abiding with his dark god in Utumno’s deeps, the Vala he adored above all else favoring him in return. 

“Whatever you need you shall have, my brilliant little flame. All that I own is at your disposal.”

Mairon nodded breathlessly. He wanted to lose himself in his master’s eyes.

Melkor trailed fingers down his throat, but when he reached Mairon’s collar, as bloodsoaked as the rest of his garments, he recalled himself and turned back to the flayed elf. “I think we’ve learned what we can here.” The elf’s eyes widened in terror, and it sobbed as Melkor thrust a hand into what remained of its chest and seized its beating heart. “This, Mairon, is true power. To hold death in your hands, to bestow or withhold it as you please…” He flashed Mairon a feral grin. “Don’t you feel so alive?” He crushed the elf’s heart and watched it spasm as the light flickered and faded from its eyes.

Mairon did feel alive, but it was in Melkor’s gleeful delight that he reveled. He hadn’t been sure about cutting into the elf at first, some vestige of old responsibilities constraining him, but if it pleased his lord so much, he would master this art. He would learn to create pain more skillfully than anyone so he could lay it at Melkor’s feet and receive that smile again.

Stepping behind him, Melkor clasped Mairon in his arms. He felt startlingly solid. Mairon’s breath hitched as Melkor’s hard length pressed against him. “I wonder, little flame,” Melkor purred in his ear. 

“My lord?” His own flesh responded overwhelmingly to Melkor’s touch, heat and blood rushing to his groin so fast he ached.

Melkor slipped a hand under Mairon’s robe and pushed it from his shoulders. “I wonder what you would sacrifice to me. If I might hold your living heart in my hands even thus.”

“I belong to you, my lord,” Mairon whispered. His threatened heart pounded in anticipation and fear. “You are the Mighty One; anything you desire you can take.” He worshipped that strength; he had yearned to feel its extent over him, but he had also known the price of standing in the umbra of a predator. That sooner or later he might be devoured. That danger was part of the thrill of loving Melkor. 

“I can, of course.” Melkor turned Mairon to face him and lifted him onto the table’s edge. “But I do not wish to take. I wish you to give.” He nibbled along the curve of Mairon’s ear, stroking the sensitive spot where his horns joined his head.

Mairon moaned. “If I die I can give you nothing more.”

Melkor struggled with the fastenings of Mairon’s breeches before giving up and vanishing them with a wave of his hand. He stilled. “What foolish thoughts are these? You are no elf or beast to perish so lightly. Do you trust me?”

Mairon considered. No one yet knew what might happen if a Maia's fána were destroyed while still being worn. He didn't want to be the one to find out. And yet…what Melkor wanted, he got. If he wanted Mairon alive, he would live. If he didn't…Mairon didn't believe that. But if he didn't, Mairon would please him with his last breath. Melkor bit teasingly along his jaw, soothing the pain away with his tongue while his hand closed around Mairon's cock. Mairon gasped, his world sparking with pleasure, until he could scarcely remember what he'd wanted to say.

“Nnhh! Ohh, my lord! I…yours! I'm yours! Please…long ago I gave you my heart; do with it as you will!”

Ai, there was the greedy desire he'd hoped for! Melkor's lust reverberated through the Music pulsing behind what could be seen. Mairon felt it surrounding him, centered on him like the circling stars, rich and low and laughing. Lifting Mairon's hips, Melkor pushed inside him. Pain stabbed through him; his body cramped in protest of the sudden penetration. Mairon cried out and bit down on Melkor's shoulder.

“It'll feel better soon, precious.”

Mairon would have been proud to endure it simply for Melkor's enjoyment, but he spoke true. With every stroke, pleasure built within him, nigh unbearable in its intensity and yet somehow unfulfilled. Melkor's hand shifted. His fingers stretched into iron talons, long and sharp. He raked them down Mairon's chest, cleaving flesh and bone. Mairon shrieked, and Melkor immediately claimed his mouth with his own. It was too much. Smaller pains had begun to melt and flow into elation like solder in a join, but this agony promised to drown him. He cried and didn't try to stop, though he choked on his tears.

Melkor took his chin and forced his head up. “Look at me.” 

Mairon met his gaze and was rapt. 

“You are the one being in this maddening creation worth holding on to. I won't let go.”

Managing a tiny nod, Mairon kept his eyes on Melkor's. His master still moved within him, long and slow and deep, filling him and dragging pleasure from him despite all else, and Mairon realized his torment could transmute after all. His ribs cracked as Melkor wrenched him apart, and then he was penetrated anew. Melkor held him with one arm wrapped tight around him as he reached inside. Mairon was beyond responding. He shook and thought it ecstasy. He felt Melkor's hand cradle his heart, loose it from its moorings, tug it forward to kiss, to…bite? Mairon fell into Melkor’s intent obsidian eyes and knew only bliss.

When the world intruded on his senses again, he lay in Melkor's arms wrapped in a warm robe. His hand flew to his chest. It was perfect as if nothing had happened. He shifted a little. He felt no pain but the lingering welcome soreness of having been well fucked. He looked up to smile at Melkor, to ask if it had all been real, and froze. Melkor's mouth dripped blood.

“You are beautiful,” Mairon whispered in awe. Slipping a hand behind his lord's neck, he pulled him down and kissed him, holding nothing back. His heart’s blood tasted sweet.


End file.
